Became the Villainess’s Guardian

Edan’s words were only partially correct.

The accurate part was the Belfast Republic’s initial lack of urgency.
From the outset, the Republic had regarded Demonic Tribe spies as a given. While the Glassgow Kingdom on the opposite end of the continent might be exempt, their land borders rendered such infiltration plausible.

In fact, Demonic Tribe members were periodically apprehended in cities near the capital every few years.
The Glassgow Kingdom, having never experienced such an incident coupled with the shocking discovery of a plot to overthrow the capital, had understandably panicked.

Hence, the prevailing opinion among most Belfast citizens regarding the Demonic Tribe was:

“Considering them a threat? Well… not quite to that extent?”

“This isn’t their first bout of mayhem, you know. Their recent antics seem a tad more intense, but they’ll likely settle down again like they have for decades.”

“Ah, though launching those garbage balloons was rather creative this time.”

Provocations inevitably lose impact through repetition.
An infrequent, novel approach might garner interest, but constant bombardment breeds apathy and desensitization.

When firing upon the border proved ineffective, the Demonic Tribe had resorted to launching garbage-filled balloons, initially garnering attention as a fresh tactic. But that novelty had rapidly dissipated.

Not something to boast about, but the airborne garbage was arguably in better condition than the Thames River’s water quality, which helped mitigate concerns.

“So the Glassgow Kingdom actually apprehended a Demonic Tribe member?”

“They bragged about being so secure, yet one surfaced in their capital.”

“At least the rebellion didn’t last three days. Failing to maintain domestic order, their subsequent handling was fortunate. Had it succeeded, the Republic could have ended up surrounded by the Demonic Tribe.”

“…In that light, perhaps we should investigate as well?”

After sufficiently mocking what had been derisively dubbed the Demonic Tribe’s ‘spawn point’, the Belfast citizens belatedly realized their own lack of domestic scrutiny.

Even as a blatant coup attempt unfolded in their neighbor’s backyard, the Republic had been idly spectating, akin to watching a fire across the river.
It was only sensible to assume that if rats were swarming next door, some might be scurrying within one’s own home.

While equally panicked and overwhelmed, the Republic resolved to conduct a cursory internal investigation, however haphazard.

And:

“…We had this many Demonic Tribe members infiltrated nationwide?”

“A letter was discovered indicating some had intentionally allowed themselves to be caught periodically to lull our vigilance.”

“After issuing a directive to immediately report any Demonic Tribe suspicions, the number of nationwide reports quadrupled!”

“But this is bizarre. They had penetrated this deeply?!”

Based on the information provided by the Glassgow Kingdom – their supposed human allies – the Republic’s intensive searches centered on areas with high ‘suspicious neighbor’ reports yielded shocking results.

Police officers who had set out nonchalantly to conduct routine inquiries found themselves requesting reinforcements by evening, brandishing batons amidst the slums’ newfound chaos.

“So they’ve been cornered here! Very well, since it’s come to this, you lot can join them!”

“Grimoires! Those are the very grimoires that beguiled our citizens! Do not gaze upon them out of curiosity!”

“They’re fleeing! It seems our operation has been compromised somewhere. What should we do now?!”

“Damn… For now, apprehend whoever we can! Don’t aim to eradicate them all – handle the immediate threats first!”

Being a direct land neighbor, the Republic had steeled itself for a somewhat larger Demonic Tribe presence than the Glassgow Kingdom.
However, every time they lifted an age-old stone, more vermin would scurry out from beneath – not just the slums, but even prosperous districts offered no respite, leaving the police force speechless.

Unfortunately, lacking a shadowy seer glimpsing the future or a magician depleting their fortune for charity and welfare, such an outcome was only natural.

During the months when the Glassgow Kingdom quelled the rebellion’s turmoil, Superintendent Baldor interrogated dangling Demonic Tribe members in the Metropolitan basement, and Edan received weapon development contracts,
the Belfast Republic had haphazardly apprehended Demonic Tribe members, only for one-third to safely escape and flee to rural areas or return to Demonic Tribe lands.

And after causing such an uproar, the citizens could hardly remain oblivious.
This ambiguous operation was swiftly seized upon by the media and disseminated nationwide, prompting a public outcry that was nearly unleashed:

“What has the Parliament been doing all this time… No, never mind.”

“I was the fool for expecting competence from the outset. I’ve grown weary of questioning them – let’s sweep it all away.”

“Go ahead and hurl insults… Yes, spew vile curses if it brings catharsis!”

“What a mess.”

Having barely weathered the panic’s punch, Parliament finally succumbed to the finishing blow, suffering a cordial cabinet overthrow akin to their neighbor.
However, accepting responsibility amidst the explosive fallout did not instantly resolve the issue. Belatedly interrogating the apprehended Demonic Tribe members, the police reached one conclusion:

“War is imminent.”

“Are you truly being serious? If this conversation leaks, I’ll be packing my bags for next year’s election.”

The Interior Minister raised his voice to the Republic’s President.

“Now is not the time for jokes! They are clearly preparing for war.”

And having been captured, the Demonic Tribe members showed no inclination to conceal that fact either.

“The Dark Lord has issued a nationwide edict heavily implying war preparations. The number of military volunteers has skyrocketed.”

“Most of our intelligence sources have gone dark. The remaining incoming intel could be severed at any moment.”

“To have rounded us up en masse like this… Did they know all along? Have they been lulling us into complacency until now?”

While war was undesirable, the decision was not theirs to make.
And they were well aware that if it truly erupted, this Republic would be the first to be trampled and left in its wake.

“We must prepare, even now.”

“Where will the funds come from?”

“Is that truly important now?! We must devise countermeasures, whether through sponsorships or squeezing resources from elsewhere!”

“Immediately securing a budget is difficult. How about seeking technological aid or consultancy?”

“From where, pray tell?”

“Where else but the one place we can immediately solicit assistance from.”

With a dissatisfied expression, the President pointed his finger westward, towards the kingdom.

Ordinarily, they would growl and compete over which was the greater nation.
But when faced with the Demonic Tribe issue, would it not be wiser to swallow their pride and unite?

After hearing the full story, it seemed the Belfast Republic was genuinely intent on bolstering their military forces, contrary to expectations.
Under normal circumstances, a neighboring nation’s military buildup might have raised concerns, but fortunately, even Parliament was not so oblivious as to obstruct such efforts given the situation.

“A technological exchange.”

“They have proposed rather generous terms, desperate as they are. We will likely gain restricted access to certain confidential magic and information.”

Free overseas trips funded by taxpayer money were irresistible.
However, my intellect – which shone as the 29th Greatest Glassgowian in this year’s Daily Londinium Awards – rightfully belonged to humanity, even if my physical self and salary were beholden to Ceres Martop.

The next day, I promptly ascended to Ceres Martop’s uppermost floor to seek permission.

“Those numbers seem rather ambiguous, though.”

“Well, excluding the deceased, I’m fifth among the living.”

Among the living, naturally, I could hardly displace luminaries like Her Majesty the Queen, who had enjoyed renown within the kingdom for decades.

“I also outranked the current Prime Minister.”

“To be fair, that might have been more difficult to achieve… Regardless, feel free to take this opportunity if you wish.”

“Oh, is this a vacation?”

“No. I have an assignment for you while you’re there.”

As if she had been waiting, Freyja entrusted me with the weighty task of establishing a Ceres Martop branch in the Belfast Republic –
the very plan we had attempted a year prior but abandoned on the Earl of Norton’s advice.

Conversely, it implied the groundwork and foundations were already in place. As their representative, I merely needed to plant our flag and handle some administrative procedures.
Acquiring a factory, whether by repurposing another martop’s or constructing a new one, could be readily resolved.

“There has been much talk of war lately.”

“Indeed. Is that not the very reason I am being sent to the Republic?”

“What will become of this world, I wonder……”

Freyja, truthfully, did not yet seem to fully grasp the gravity of the situation.

Only a few years ago, she had been immersed in hopes of humanity’s perpetual prosperity. A year prior, she had braced for economic collapse. And now, the Demonic Tribe posed overt threats of invasion.

In such a rapidly shifting world, maintaining one’s composure might be the stranger feat.

Freyja inquired of me,

“Come to think of it, you seem rather prepared for such eventualities.”

“Do I give that impression?”

“You don’t appear as startled by these developments as one might expect. Your longstanding focus on weapon development also lends credence to that notion.”

“I’m simply not one to be easily surprised, and our hobbies happened to align by chance. It’s not as though someone here can glimpse the future or anything.”

A thought occurred to me:

Had I truly altered the future so drastically?
Without my intervention, would the kingdom have prepared for the Demonic Tribe to this extent?

As I rose, I stated,

“In that case, I shall return shortly. And I will bring good tidings upon my return.”

“I look forward to it. But what of your daughter?”

“Pardon?”

“Are you intending to travel alone? If so, you’ll need to arrange for someone to look after her.”

“…Ah.”

That’s right. There was Freugne.